The Barometer
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: Injecting a bit of realism into fanfic sex. Jenny and Gibbs back in the day.


**Author's note:**

I should point out in advance that this is another case of _adult sex_.

People in a loving adult relationship aren't usually squeamish.

The story itself stems from a line that implanted itself in my brain sometime last year at four o'clock in the morning, but is _also_ due to a conversation I had not long after that about the lack of realism in most fanfic sex.

So it goes out with a dedication.

You know who you are ...

* * *

><p><strong>Somewhere in Europe<strong>

**Early 1999**

He was awake the moment she snapped on the bedside lamp; even though his body clock told him it was still 0-dark hundred.

"Headache .." she mumbled.

Gibbs looked over at her in confusion - sure that one of them had it backwards.

In his experience headaches were the most clichédway for a woman to say she didn't want sex; and yet even as she lay there looking every inch the woman whose head felt there was a freight train barrelling through it, Jen's hand was making overtures under the coverlet.

"Jen? You okay?"

He watched her try to roll her eyes and stop halfway through. Her eyelids remained shut for a moment, before opening up again. Revealing eyes that lacked their customary lustre.

"Weather's changing," she said as she closed them again.

Gibbs moved fractionally closer and saw a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. It had taken him a while to accept that someone could be such an effective barometer – but she'd proved it long before they'd become lovers. He didn't dwell too much on who she'd turned to for relief back then, but rather indulged in the fantasy that she took care of herself.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her smile again.

"What are you thinking about?" she mumbled.

"You," he said honestly. "Taking care of bus-"

Eyes still closed she reached up and placed two fingers across his mouth.

"Shut up. Are you going to make me beg?" she added when he kissed her fingertips.

"Nooo," he drawled in a deep voice.

She made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a muffled laugh.

"Don't make me laugh, Jethro. It hurts."

A roughened palm stroked over her legs and stomach; caressing her insistently as she tried to ignore her pulse thwacking mercilessly against her temples. Firm lips slid along her taut jawline. Making their way up to her earlobe. Soft heated breath and a slow lick causing pain to sear through her head and her fingers to catch in the hair on his chest. Desire spun like the maelstrom of leaves in an Autumn garden – bringing with it the awareness that he was trying to replace one ache with another so that he could assuage it.

As he did whenever she needed him to.

He pulled back for a moment – turning positively smug at the sight of her nipples rising in anticipation. Even through barely open eyes she could see his cerulean gaze turn feral and hungry, and instinctively her body pressed upwards towards his mouth. Despite the pain, her body writhed beneath the wet plunder; legs parting to extend the final invitation.

He glanced at her once – seeking audible confirmation of how much pain she was in – and when the only answer he got was a bruising grip at shoulder level, he shrugged her off gently, lay on his side, and pushed her thighs further apart. Inserting a salivated digit into her; catching a smile creeping up on him when she strained against it and flashed him a look that was all Jenny. She rocked against his palm when he brought in back up; making him smile a little more as she vocalized her need for more in tiny exasperated whimpers. But he kept her on edge. Giving her no quarter until she fell apart in a series of fluttering drizzly contractions.

"It wasn't what I had in mind, Jethro," she mumbled.

"I know," he said. Shifting until he loomed over her.

Enjoying the way her eyes tried to widen as he started to lick his fingers off and then decided to trace her lips instead. Replacing them with his mouth seconds later. Feeling himself tighten just a bit more as the residual taste and smell of her assaulted his senses.

Their hips settled easily into rhythm as they took possession of each other. Each pelvic grind obliterating the one before it; every one testament to a seamless fit. He reached for her wrists – interlocking them in one of his up over her head. Forcing her to hold his eyes as he plunged repeatedly into her; his way of ensuring that she was fine without having to ask. Releasing her hands only when they started to slip against each other.

"With me, Jenny," he whispered hoarsely as he felt her ankles lock around the small of his back.

Knowing that the change in angle was going to be his undoing.

Blood roared through her ears as they crested, but she reached for his hand when post-coital silence engulfed them. Raising it gratefully to her lips. They lay together for a while; limbs limp and tangled. Enjoying the familiar comfort of the other's uneven breathing.

"Head any better?" Jethro asked after a while as he dropped a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

"Not yet. But it will be," she said as she made to get out of bed.

His hand snaked out from under the covers and wrapped itself around her wrist.

"Stay," he said gently as he pushed her back down and slipped out of the bed himself.

She looked curiously at him when he walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later, a clearly damp towel in his hands.

"Jethro?" She raised herself up on her elbows as he hovered uncertainly by the bedside.

He stared at her - suddenly unsure about whether she would allow this. Whether she was ready to share this with him as well. Her eyes softened suddenly as she realized what he was offering – and the look that traversed his features made her lean over and toss the covers aside with an encouraging smile. Caressing his cheek as he came within reach – before sliding back down onto her back and pulling him with her.

He applied himself to the task with the same solicitousness he employed when he made love to her; the soft moans it elicited from her telling him that she was neither embarrassed nor anxious for it to be over. And the smile she sent his way when he chanced a look at her telling him exactly that, and more.

She switched off the light and settled quietly against his chest when he was done; talking clearly superfluous for both of them. Although she was aware that he was holding her a bit tighter than usual – and that it wasn't bothering her.

"Jethro ..." she murmured as they drifted towards sleep.

"Yeah?" He leant over her, squeezing the hand he was holding over her midriff gently. Meeting her halfway as she craned her neck on the pillow they were sharing.

She pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Thank you."


End file.
